


Five Times Peter Reached For Lydia As An Anchor, And One Time She Reached Back

by Archer973



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 08:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2102370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archer973/pseuds/Archer973
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's only ever been one person for Peter Hale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Peter Reached For Lydia As An Anchor, And One Time She Reached Back

1.

Darkness…

Voices drifted in and out, nonsensical and warped. What should have been words was merely noise. He was floating, adrift in a sea of black that was both empty and chaotic, filled with whispering ghosts and images that flickered by almost too fast for him to see.

Flames. He remembered flames, and screaming. One of the voices was his own. He could smell his own skin burning as he tried to pull himself from the wreckage. He remembered pain, and knew that he should feel it now, but everything was waves of black and whispers of ghosts.

He needed to get out of here. The ghosts were stalking him, preying on his mind. They screamed of death and fault and weakness. He was so weak. Death was creeping up on him, waiting patiently for the ghosts to finish their work. He couldn’t survive, not as an Omega, which is what he was now. He needed power. He needed… an Alpha.

It took an eternity to gather his mental strength, and in that time he drifted farther and farther from the shores of his mind. He was lost on that black sea. He couldn’t find his way back. He needed something, anything, to hold on to.

When at last he had the strength to reach out, the first thing he did was call for Talia. But his sister did not answer. It was only then that he remembered the acrid smell of burning hair and the sight of her jumping back into the flames, trying to rescue Eveline’s baby. She never came out.

That first call took almost all of his strength. He spent another lifetime in the dark, tormented by the ghosts that rode the blackness. When at last he could call again, he sent it wide, a net searching for something to hook onto. He found an Alpha, but she was distant, unaware of his call. Beta, Omega, Omega, Wendigo… They all slipped by. He needed something else, something more…

Red hair flashed by him, catching the corner of his awareness. He circled in, curious. This was something new, something different. There was power here, gallons of it, roiling beneath the surface of pale, fragile skin. A scream was stuck in her throat, waiting. Lips painted red to match her hair pursed and hazel eyes flashed. She was strong, determined, and unfathomably smart. She was perfect.

His net settled around her like a glove, clinging the steady, pulsing spark of the banshee. Oh, she wasn’t one yet, but he would soon fix that. All she needed was a little… bite. But for now she would tie him to the physical world, helping draw him back.

He just needed one more thing, something real and tangible that he could hang on to, something to help him slowly, laboriously, even painfully drag himself back into the world. He needed… her name.

She was all tossing red hair and sparkling green eyes, smooth skin and pouting lips. He heard her laugh, listened to her heartbeat, rolled in her scent. He learned everything he could about her, hiding in her dreams, until finally he heard it…

“Lydia.”

 

2.

He thought that he would leave the ghosts in the dark, shadowy realm that had been his coma. The spark of an Alpha, torn from the heart of his niece, warmed his body now, but still they screamed. It was all he could hear. He needed to drown them out, needed something to make them go away.

The moon was up. He started running, trusting his instincts to take him where he needed to go. He could feel the blackness pulling at him. All he could hear was the screaming. Oh gods would they never shut up?! He ran faster, reaching out, trying to find something to stabilize himself. But his family was gone. The one nephew that remained was hunting him. He was alone.

And then he wasn’t. Green grass stretched out in front of him, and on it stood a girl in a silver dress. His heart clenched at the sight of her, though for a moment he couldn’t remember why. Then he saw her hair.

The banshee. Of course. She had saved him from the ghosts once. It was time for her to save him again. But then he heard what she was shouting, and a hot surge of rage boiled up into his chest. Never again would another man’s name leave her lips. She was his, and her name rolled out of his mouth in a growl that shook the earth.

“ _Lydia!_ ”

 

3.

The point between life and death was all flickering shadows and broken strains of music. But he wasn’t worried. The Reaper would not take him, not this day. He had ensured that. And now all he needed to do was put that plan into action.

It was easy to infiltrate her mind, for her body already carried a piece of him inside. He slipped into her thoughts, letting her see him in a form that would set her at ease. He could not resist stealing the sweetness from those infernal ruby lips, nor stifle his delight when the glamor dropped and she saw what her friends had done to him.

Let her suffer, just as he had suffered. She should have been there with him, should have been standing at his side, her powers ready to be wielded against his enemies. Let her see what happens when she fails him.

He’s starting to slip away. The time has to be soon. The Worm Moon is coming. How fitting that on the day celebrating her birth, she will be giving life back to him. She will truly belong to him then.

Cold, skeletal fingers are trying to grab him, but he holds on, burying himself in her scent, clinging to that flaming hair. She doesn’t want to hold him, but that doesn’t matter. He will hang on tightly enough for both of them.

The moon is coming. It is time. He prepares himself, and prepares her. He laughs at the drunkenness and the fears of the partygoers. How good of his little Beta to ensure there were plenty of people there. Maybe he would be loyal after all.

He rides in her mind, whispering to her over and over, reminding her of just who she belongs to.

“ _Lydia, Lydia, Lydia, Lydia._ ”

 

4.

Not just an uncle.

Not just an uncle.

Not just an uncle.

His world is spinning. Why did Talia take that from him? Why strip him of the pride, the honor, the joy of being a father? True, he had never before felt the urge to be all paternal, but now that he knew…

Heat rushed through him, warming him. He needed the name. She said she didn’t know, but her heartbeat told another story. He wanted to grab her and force the name from her red lips. Didn’t she understand? Didn’t she know what this meant to him?

His whole world had suddenly flipped over and she was the only one who could right it. He needed her, needed her knowledge, grown from a power that he awakened in her. He stepped forward, reaching for her, torn between shaking her and dropping to his knees to beg.

Pain. Paralyzing pain. He dropped to the ground, still twitching from the electricity coursing through him, and watched the Argent hellspawn pull away his only hope. He needed her, needed to know, needed to feel that warmth again. He would beg, if that’s what it took, he just needed…

“LYDIA!”

 

5. 

He smelled the blood moments before he saw it. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He was on his knees in front of her before he could even think, cupping her face in his hands.

She couldn’t die, not like this, not now when his world was twisted out of shape and she was the only one who could fix it. She had always fixed it, always been the one to help pull him through. He couldn’t lose her. He needed to know, needed to know who his child was, how to find them, how to reach out to them… She’d said she was going to help him. He needed her to help him. Without her, all was lost.

“You are stronger than this.”

She always had been. It was that strength which had first drawn him to her. No matter what he had put her through, she had always come back. He didn’t care that he didn’t deserve her. Let others think of what they did and did not deserve. He needed her, needed her if his world was to go on spinning. She was everything. And he only needed to remind her of that.

He gathered everything he felt, everything he hoped, everything he desired, and shoved it into her. He roared for her, just as she had screamed for others, but a werewolf’s power lies in life, not death, and he was going to ensure that she did not leave him, for he couldn’t survive without his banshee, his queen, his…

“ _LYDIA!_ ”

 

+1

 His wolf tore at him, clawing at his intestines, snarling its rage. All he could see was red. Distantly he knew that he was poisoned, that the wolfsbane had stripped away his control, but his wolf didn’t care. It wanted to be free of this meat prison, be free to hunt and kill and run. His knees buckled as he felt his stomach split open, ripped apart by invisible claws.

“Peter.”

It hurt, it hurt so bad. If he gave in the pain would end, everything would end. He would be free.

“Peter, can you hear me?”

No more glares. No more not-so-subtle growls. No more looking at his daughter and knowing she hated him.

“Peter, you have to fight this.”

He didn’t want to fight. He had been fighting his whole life. He wanted peace.

“Damn you, do not give up on me! You are better than this, you are _stronger_ than this. Fight back!”

He wasn’t the strong one. He had never been the strong one. It was always her. She had always pulled him through everything, given him a reason to keep going. But she hated him too.

“Peter, please. Please don’t leave me.”

She was crying.

He had made her cry once, and it haunted him still. But now she was crying again and it needed to stop. He could make it stop. He just had to fight. He had to be strong. Just this once, he had to be strong for her.

The wolf snarled, but he pushed it back. He was the master of this body, not it. It could fight all it wanted, but it didn’t matter. He triggered the healing process, forcing the toxin out of his body. It burned and he couldn’t help but cry out.

That’s when he felt small, warm hands on his face. The world was no longer red, but green. He could see where the tears had run from those brilliant eyes and he reached up a hand, brushing them away. It was a silent promise, made to both her and himself: he would never make her cry again.

“Peter?”

Her voice on his name sounded so sweet, so right. He would do anything for her, if only she would say his name again.

Suddenly all he could see was red, but it smelled of strawberries and peaches this time. He felt warm arms wrap around him and a soft face bury itself in his neck. He moaned softly and gathered the banshee in his arms, holding her tight, murmuring her name over and over and over again, like a prayer.

“Lydia, Lydia, Lydia…”


End file.
